Bearer of Guilt
by Dusha
Summary: This comes directly after The Wrath of Khan and was inspired by a line in LA Graf's War Dragons. How does Chekov feel after loosing his ship, and what can Sulu and Uhura do about it?
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I don't own Star Trek, or any of it's characters no matter how much I try to bribe the true creators. Ah, Gene you truly were a visionary, I wouldn't try to steal them from you 'cause I'm not that mean. I could never imagine anything this amazing! Oh, and methinks I should thank by beta/friend/critiquer/fellow conspirator/etc, Pisces. Danka girl!**

**Bearer of Guilt**

          It had been like talking to a brick wall. Well, maybe that wasn't totally true. No, the expressions that Sulu had seen could never be expressed in any medium on a wall, not the raw and earnest pain that he now saw whenever he gazed into his friend's eyes. No matter how many times he tried to convince him, no matter how many times Uhura tried the same or different tactics, the result was always the same. His impossibly controlled posture and expression, the stiff square of his shoulders, everything that screamed at someone to help him, but then set up a barrier that shielded him from anyone trying to help. The thing that had gotten to Sulu the most was his eyes. No matter what he had been through before, neither Sulu nor Uhura had seen that horribly dead look in those expressive eyes. 

          "D-do you think he'll be any better after the funeral?" Uhura's eyes were tired and upset, but steadfastly refused to close. She lay curled up in a ball on the couch, facedown, something she would only feel comfortable doing in Chekov or Sulu's presence. She still wore her dress uniform, crumpled now as opposed to its neatly pressed and formal look of only hours before. Scrubbing at her eyes with a delicate hand, she glanced up at Sulu from her makeshift bed.

          "Oh, how should I know? It's not like he ever talks to me, Nyota." Sulu laughed shortly, painfully, and his sarcasm could sting. "It would be helpful if Chekov had let us go with him. So he didn't have to go and face everyone by himself." 

          Uhura nodded into the dark blue cushion, knowing that Sulu's annoyance only served as a cover for his true worry. In that respect the two best friends were one in the same, neither one of them would be honest about what they were truly feeling. With Sulu though, it was usually tectonic, with the true emotions hiding under the surface waiting to be released if given the chance. 

          They both knew though, that Chekov's feelings about the _Reliant_, and more importantly her crew, were something that they needed to get him to tell them, but he would rather die then tell them. That's why, when they showed up at the doors to his temporary quarters asking if he would like some company going to the funeral for every other member of the crew of his ship, he profusely refused to let them accompany him. Sulu had tried to grab his friend and explain to Chekov that hiding from Uhura and him wouldn't help anyone. The dark Russian had merely shouldered past the pair, vowing that if they followed him he would never speak to them again. 

          "I keep trying to tell myself that he just needs some time to think about it, to get over it himself before he comes and talks to us." Uhura rose from her near-sleeping position to allow herself to more easily track the helmsman's meandering path. Stalking the unfamiliar room with a tense anger, Sulu snorted, 

          "But you know it will never happen. He's just going to come back and try to convince us that he's Ok, or he's just tired and wants to go to sleep, or a thousand other excuses. Then he'll drop it whenever we try to bring it up again. Uhura, I don't know what to do when he's like this. I never have. I want to help him, but I don't know how!" Sulu's frustrated explosion surprised Uhura until she realized who it was coming from. The helmsman and former security chief, former navigator knew each other with an intimacy that only years of soul-bonding friendship could bring. 

          Nodding her head slowly, she answered, "It's not only that, but he should have been home by now. I'm worried about him."

          "So am I," Sulu looked across the sparse room to the door, saying firmly shut, "I just hope he realizes that."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          He hesitated no more then a foot from the sensor that would betray his presence and open the door to his quarters. The innate sense that had been instilled into him and had saved his life countless times as a security officer was blaring in his mind like a klaxon. The only problem was, he couldn't pinpoint exactly why his senses were reacting the way they were. After a second Pavel Chekov shook his head and decided he didn't care. In all honestly he really didn't care about anything right now. He felt so sedated that he couldn't feel anything. Passively he glanced down the silver corridor, hoping to see some of his old adversaries tracking him. If he feared for his life, maybe he would feel something, but he doubted it. As the door silently opened his room to him, he noticed the shadows stalking his room. Realization dawned on him, and he recognized what he subconsciously knew was missing.

          "Sulu, Uhura," he greeted them coldly, "Here to check up on me?"

          As soon as the door had opened, Sulu had turned to meet his comrade's gaze, frowning when Chekov turned away apologetically. Like he didn't deserve to look into his eyes. "We just wanted to make sure you'd make it back alright from the service and everything." Sulu's blasé voice only served to heighten Chekov's awareness of his friends.

          "Making sure I don't commit suicide or something? How thoughtful. Really, you don't have to worry. You may go home now." At his opening snide remark, Chekov saw Uhura's head jerk upward so quickly he almost feared whiplash. 

          "That's not funny Pavel," her lilting, melodious voice almost colorless now, "We need to talk." 

          Sulu was surprised at Uhura's bluntness. Usually the pretty communications officer found ways of being more diplomatic about getting what she wanted. He could tell, though, that Uhura was so worried she didn't agonize over hurting Chekov's feelings. 

          "No," Chekov faced both of them, his Slavic face stern, "You need to leave."

          "We're not leaving until you-"

          "I said leave!" Chekov's shout reverberated against the all-too-close-feeling walls, and the two Commanders shared a shocked look at the honest rage they heard from their friend. Cautiously edging his way towards Chekov, Sulu timidly reached out a hand to grasp Chekov's shoulder. 

          "We aren't going to leave." 

          "That's obvious." Chekov growled at Sulu, futilely trying to get away from Sulu's touch. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" 

          With that simple question, Sulu felt Chekov all but collapse under his hand. The weight of everything; his captain and crew's death, trying to remain professional when he came onto the bridge after almost shooting Kirk, staying strong for the families at the funeral and letting them blame him for their tragedies if they wanted to, and his unsuccessful attempts to keep Sulu and Uhura away from him, suddenly came crashing down upon him. He couldn't stand the demands he and other people had put on him. He had tried to be strong to long when he really wanted nothing more then to crawl under a rock and die. Gently Sulu guided him around the glass-like coffee table and with a firmness borne of compassion, made him sit next to Uhura on the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

_I would just like to thank everyone that has reviewed so far, especially Lady Chekov and Stella McCoy. You know how to do really good reviews. I always like to hear what is good, and more importantly, what can be improved upon in my stories. Please, if anyone else reads this and has an opinion on it, good, bad or otherwise, please review or feel free to e-mail me at trekkie606@aol.com I always want to know if you guys really think I got the characterizations right, whether you think that a character would or wouldn't say something. Any additions or omissions you think I should have made. It makes me a better writer. Please, anyone who reads this. Take a few minutes and review!_

          "You know why we can't. We care about you too much to make you go through this alone." Uhura slipped an arm around Chekov's shoulders, heart twisting at his pain.

          "I tried, I tried so damn hard…." Chekov choked out. Sulu threw a puzzled glance in Uhura's direction, not fully aware of what was being referred to. Chekov's next admission cleared the confusion, "I really thought that they'd be there when we went to pick them up."

          Tears caught in Uhura's eyes; remembering the journey to Ceti Alpha V, ready to pick up the survivors of the _Reliant_. When her hails hadn't been answered she remembered seeing the look of stark panic on Chekov's face, demanding to know where they were. Khan had neglected to mention that when he marooned the crew on the harsh planet it had been without any protective gear, and they hadn't been anywhere near shelter. They had died eaten away by the raging, sandy winds devoid of hope and rescue. Even Admiral Kirk had ducked his head in a feeble attempt to cover his shock at the brutality forced on the blameless crew. At that time, Chekov had merely stood stiffly like an old frozen Russian soldier, paralyzed. 

          "It's not your fault. You couldn't have done anything to help them, even if you wanted to. You aren't to blame." Sulu couldn't think of anything else to say to try and appease the demons trying to destroy his friend. 

          "I missed a whole planet Sulu! How could that not be my fault? I couldn't get Captain Terrell out fast enough and he died, my own hand sent the killing blows to my ship, Captain Spock died trying to save the ship from a madman I helped put in control, do I have to go on? This _is _my fault Sulu-don't lie to me!"

          Shaken, Sulu couldn't find the breath to counter the degree of self-loathing that stung like venom coming from his friend. Uhura managed to step into the breach. She had, to some extent, a reputation on the _Enterprise_ for being a councilor of sorts, when crewman felt awkward talking to the much more imposing Dr. McCoy. In all her sessions, though, she had never heard such honest disgust towards oneself as she did now. "The sensor readings from our original tour were wrong, Pavel, not you. The gravitational fluxes in the region and the haste with which we did everything caused us to take false readings. You were only going by what you could guess. When the sensor readings didn't match up with what we had picked up you had to presume something had happened, and there was no way you could have known."

          "Besides, the important thing is that we don't blame you for what happened. Admiral Kirk doesn't; he was Spock's best friend! Like you're ours. If he doesn't blame you for anything you shouldn't blame yourself either," Sulu tried to reason.

          "A lot of people blame me, Sulu. More to the point," he spat, "I blame me, so it doesn't matter what other people think." Chekov brought his face into his hands, while Uhura squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. 

          Disgusted with his attitude, Sulu finally broke. "Well you're wrong, so live with it." The no-nonsense, I-don't-care-what-you-think characteristic in Sulu's voice caused Chekov to look up, confused at this change in tactics.

          "What?"

          "I'm sick and tired of this. I will _not_ listen to you down yourself anymore. You just need to get over yourself, realize that me and Uhura are right, and come back to the human race. You have no other choice. I will not listen to you anymore," Sulu demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest in an age-old sign of finality.

          "Hikaru you don't understand I-"

          "Shut up! I don't want to hear it!" Sulu interjected. "You're a good man and I will not let anyone else, much less you, down yourself. Got it?" Sulu was trying to put every ounce of intimidation he could into his voice and when Chekov turned to stare at the ceiling in thought, he took the opportunity to mouth _'I know what I'm doing'_ to Uhura. At least, he hoped he did. Chekov was the kind of person who would die in a second for someone, but never understand why anyone would ever consider dying for him. It was a paradox that Sulu had yet to break him out of, and when the dour Russian lay in sickbay from a firefight he was the only person Sulu knew that would have felt worse if it was someone else in instead of him. It was a damn annoying but surprisingly compassionate trait for someone who usually hid behind a bravado of toughness. Sometimes the only thing that would break that was being as harsh and unyielding as the barricade Chekov put up to keep people out.

          "I hear what you're saying, both of you, and my mind says you're probably right, but my heart is telling me it's still my fault." It came out in a rush as Chekov tried to express everything he wanted to before Sulu overrode him again. 

          "You're heart is wrong," Sulu said bluntly. Chekov couldn't help but laugh morosely.

          "I thought the whole American ideal was to follow your heart and let it direct you to what you truly want?" he countered.

          "It is," Uhura jumped in, "but your heart is so clouded by your stupid guilt that it's telling you the wrong thing, because it thinks that's what you want to hear." 

          As much as Sulu wanted to keep his stern, drill sergeant-like expression, he had to struggle. 'Stupid guilt' was pretty strong language coming from Uhura, the same woman who got mad at people when they were rude to computers. 

          Defenses weakening, Chekov rejoined with a weak, "And how do you know what my heart is doing when I don't?" 

          Sulu took this one. "We're just smarter then you are." 

          "Not to mention," Uhura added, smiling mischievously, "that we have lots of time while you're out killing yourself to roast marshmallows, watch old 20th century movies and psychoanalyze you."

          Grudgingly, the telltale signs of a smile crept onto Chekov's face. "You never let me wallow in my own self-pity," he mock-whined. "I can't decide if you're the best or worse friends a man could have."

          "Oh, definitely the best," Sulu assured him.

          "And how do you know this?"

          "Weren't you listening before?" Uhura asked, "We're smarter then you are, we just know these things."

          "Sorry, I forgot." Chekov sobered suddenly, "Really though, you should go home, you both look horrible, and I feel bad making you stay up all night yelling at me." 

          Sulu restrained himself from slapping his forehead. Did he not hear anything they had just said? The whole 'not blaming himself' deal? The boy was hopeless. 

          "I think one of us should stay," Uhura stood, dragging Chekov up with her, "Just to make sure you're alright."

          Chekov looked down at Sulu, now lounging comfortably on the couch. "Seriously, I'm alright." 

          "Pavel Chekov, I don't think I've ever heard you say 'I feel horrible, terrible, and don't want to have you leave me alone.' I don't expect you to start now." Uhura disregarded his weak attempt to get them to go away. 

          "I'll stay," Sulu decided, sprawling out so he covered the whole couch. "I've got a comfy couch, great conversation," he smirked in Chekov's direction, "what more could a guy ask for?" Not to mention that both he and Chekov were too chivalrous to have Uhura sleep anywhere but her own quarters. 

          "It's settled then."

          "Really, Hikaru, you don't need to." Chekov stared deeply into his friend's eyes, plainly conveying the message of "Go Away". Sulu's were just as plainly responding, "Make Me".

          Knowing that he was beaten, Chekov sighed submissively. "Whatever makes you happy."

          Moving over to pinch his cheeks like an old aunt, Uhura said, "You do, you crazy Russian." Leaving him blushing where he stood, she whisked out the door.

          Tuning back to Sulu, Chekov felt as if he was about to face his own executioner, but not before being invited for tea. "So," Sulu started, "want to chat?"

          "Do I have much of a choice?"

          Sulu laughed, "You've finally figured it out."

          Chekov started talking.


End file.
